


Omega Trial.

by Mazelike



Series: Great, Newtmas got me bloody inspired. [5]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Caretaking, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 23:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4764398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazelike/pseuds/Mazelike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt thought he had already gone through Hell. He had gone into heat in the middle of the Scorch, he thought he couldn't do worst. He should have known better. Now locked up in a room, curled up into a ball on the floor, Newt realizes how wrong he's been.<br/>Because WICKED is forcing his body to go into heat. And there's absolutely nothing he can do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Omega Trial.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a kind of sequel to my work [ Scorching Heat ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3976783)  
> You don't have to read the first OS but I have to admit this one will probably make more sense if you do!  
> Beta-d by the amazing and lovely [SerenityClover](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenityClover/pseuds/SerenityClover%0A) <3

And when Newt finally thought it was over, when they had finally defeated the Scorch, when Thomas had gripped his hand in a comforting way as if he wanted to tell him that everything was going to be okay, WICKED destroyed his last hopes. He didn't really have time to think about it, couldn't really realize what was happening. The previous second he was curled up against Thomas, the alpha's arms around him, one of his hands peacefully and lazily stroking Newt's back and the next thing he knew, he woke up in a room. Alone.

The room was white. Plain white. Everything, from the floor, to the ceiling, even the walls, everything was white. Newt wasn't a massive fan of the color. It made everything feel a little bit too... clinical. But well, right now, it wasn't what crossed Newt's mind. His head was pounding and the sudden brightness was overwhelming and hurting his eyes. He kept them closed and focused on the sounds instead, but there was nothing to be heard.

Shielding his eyes a little, he slowly opened them and took in the room properly. He was lying on the floor, his back against one of the walls. There was not much to be seen, Newt discovered. No door, no window, _nothing_. At least, nothing Newt could see. He knew he couldn't really trust what he was seeing: WICKED was deceitful.

Newt sat up and waited for his head to clear, for the last bit of drugs to leave his system and when he finally felt like he was awake enough, he raised to his feet and searched the room for – something. Whatever it was. An exit he could have missed, _anything_. A sign of Thomas would be good too, though he wasn't expecting one. The thought made his heart ache. Thomas. Minho. The Gladers. There only was a few of them left, where the Hell were they?

Newt let his hands travel up and down the wall, mapping it just in case because he was not one to sit down and do nothing. Wherever his friends were, wherever Thomas was, he wasn't going to wait stupidly: he was going to find them. Though after he had checked the four walls, taken a look at the floor and even stared at the ceiling for too long, Newt realized there was no way out and he also had no idea what time it was.

“What the Hell...?” he muttered under his breath. With nothing else to occupy his mind, Newt sat back down, his back against one of the walls. And he waited. Waited. Waited.

Newt had no idea how long he stayed there, against the wall, thinking about a plan. Thinking about the reason he was here. About where Thomas and Minho were. He probably drifted off at some point, because when he opened his eyes again, there was a tray full of food in the room, and he hadn't heard a single noise, even less spotted someone. He rubbed his eyes and grabbed the tray, sliding it closer.

There was a message written on a piece of paper: _Eat._ _You'll need it._ Newt didn't like it. It sounded like a trap. Food was the easiest way to get to him, to poison him or whatever WICKED wanted – because damn, he had to admit that he sometimes really didn't get what were the plans of this bloody organization. He waited, eyeing the tray suspiciously, trying to make a call. Finally, after a good ten minutes of waiting, Newt's stomach growled in protest, betraying how hungry he was. The blond gave up and started to eat, and _damn_ that felt good.

He ate everything in record time, feeling absolutely blissful by the time he ended the last piece of his meal. He stupidly curled up on himself again. He was getting sleepy and he couldn't keep his eyes open. He didn't fight it and fell asleep.

 

 

When he woke up, he had to rub his eyes lazily before he could remember where he was. The white room brought him back to the reality of things. Thomas. Minho. Frypan. Newt needed to get out of there. Newt had eaten. A tray had made its way in his room, which meant there was obviously a way out, an exit, somewhere. He sighed and made a new room tour, hitting the walls sometimes just in case it'd open something, somewhere.

Newt was unsuccessful and he started to pace in the room, trying to think about a way out. He needed to find Thomas. It was becoming hard to be without him, especially after they had spent Newt's last heat together, back in the Scorch. It had created a strong connection between the two of them and Newt was missing the brunet's strong arms around his waist as well as a couple of other things.

He had no idea how long he had been waiting, how long he had been pacing, but suddenly, he heard a noise, like someone clearing his throat. He froze and turned around quickly, trying to figure out what had happened. Newt walked backwards until he hit the wall and stood there, his body tensing in a defensive manner.

“Hello, Newton.”

Newt raised his head, alarmed, looking for the origin of the voice. He knew that voice – he had heard it before, he knew it. He just couldn't remember where, but it made him nervous.

“Glad to see you made it out of the Scorch.” The voice continued, deep and filled with an insane pride. That's when it clicked: there was only one person that could pronounce the word “scorch” like that.

“Ratman...,” Newt growled, balling his fists.

“Janson,” the man's voice replied. He was about to speak again, but Newt cut him off.

“Where are my friends?!” He growled again, sounding a little bit animalistic.

“You don't need them right now. The third trial is different for all of you. Depending on... What you are.”

“What the Hell does that mean?”

“I hope you slept well. And had enough food. I don't think you'll be able to enjoy a full meal properly in the next few days.”

A movement caught Newt's attention on his left and he turned around, facing the – door?! Two people entered the room, coming through a newly created opening in the wall. Definitely a door then. But how? Newt had spent a whole hour looking for an exit of some kind! Panic started to spread through his system and he backed away from the two scientist-looking WICKED employees. They started to come his way and Newt whimpered pitifully.

“We're sorry you went into heat in the Scorch. It wasn't supposed to happen but our schedule got – disrupted.” The voice was still echoing painfully in the room but it seemed to be coming closer. “You were supposed to go into heat now, in our buildings so that we could test a few things...” The voice stopped and a few seconds later, Ratman came through the opening as well and smiled reassuringly. “But it's no big deal.” He finished eventually.

Newt's heart stopped beating and he had to stop himself from yelling and going crazy because he was bloody freaking out.

“No big deal? What are you -” His voice broke as one of the men grabbed his arm. It only took a second for his colleague to stand in front of Newt and the blond gulped down, fear flooding his body, making him shake from head to toe. They held Newt against the wall.

“Let me go!” Newt yelled, trying to get rid of the man holding him. His breathing became erratic as he struggled to free himself.

“Newton, calm down.” Newt struggled against his instincts: the voice belonged to an Alpha and it took everything he had to fight against the order, even though his protest and attempts to get rid of the men lessened considerably. He hated himself for how easily fear invaded his mind and his whole being, how easily Ratman had gained control over him. Newt's fight came to a stop as he started to feel like his heart was going to explode from fear.

Ratman raised his hand, still standing in the middle of the room and gestured for someone to come in. Immediately, another scientist made his way through the door, walking quickly, heading straight to Newt.

“What d'you think you're doing?” He growled, trying his best and failing at hiding how powerless he was.

“For the purpose of your trial, we need you to go into heat.” That was when Newt caught sight of the syringe. “As I said, things didn't go as planned but we'll force you into heat, it won't change a thing. At least for us.” Newt's blood ran cold at the words and even though he hated it, he could tell there were tears making their way up to his eyes, blurring his vision for a moment.

“I went into heat last week -” His voice broke and he swallowed hard, blinking back the tears. “You can't do that.” Without a word, the scientist came closer. Close enough for Newt to start thrashing around again, pathetically trying to prevent what was going to happen.

“No! No!” He tried to curl up on himself, pulling as hard as he could to make the men let go of his arms, but it was no use. Newt couldn't move. “You can't do that! Please!”

He was about to cry, he knew it. He could barely handle his heat when it came naturally, every three months, but suffering another one a week after his last had hit... Newt wasn't sure he could do it. Not now. Not on his own. Not withoutThomas. A single tear dropped from his eyes and he blinked the rest away quickly.

“Let me go! You can't – you can't do that! Please, you can't!”

Newt muffled a cry the moment he felt the syringe touch his skin. His whole body tensed and he tried to fight some more, terrified. They were going to force his body into heat and he couldn't do a thing. The needle pushed past the thin skin and after that, it was already too late. The content of the syringe invaded his body, burning his insides for a second and if he had had doubts before – he hadn't had any – he was now sure that Ratman wasn't lying. He could already recognize the dull ache of the fire that was gently lighting up in his body.

Newt dropped to the ground as soon as the men finally let go of him, too shocked and terrified to hold himself up. He curled on himself pathetically, unable to fight back.

Being an Omega was not an easy thing. Going into heat sucked and was one of the most painful things he had ever experienced. Back in the Glade, Newt had earned the trust of the Gladers because of his strength, because of his courage, because of who he was. Nobody had ever, ever treated him differently because he was an Omega. As painful as it was to admit it, Newt regretted the time he was in the Glade.

He had gone into heat last week, in the middle of the Scorch, forcing everyone to stop and defend the same position for three days in a row, something they couldn't allow themselves because they didn't have time to waste. Newt had been a burden back then but Thomas had been there for him and they had fought their way out of the Scorch eventually.

But now... Now being an Omega was making him an easy target. Someone was playing with his hormones, with the way his bloody body worked, making it go into heat like it was the easiest thing ever. WICKED was using his weakness, the thing he hated the most about himself, to experiment on him. Newt was shocked. Terrified. He felt betrayed by his body. He felt soiled. And just as he was slowly trying to move to at least go back on his feet and wait for the serum to kick in, it did. Newt was sitting up on his knees when fire spread through his veins. He tried to hold back a whimper but failed and he whined pitifully, one of his hands shooting in front of him to support him as he doubled over in pain.

In a second he was a ball of misery and pain, curled on the white floor, both hands pressed hard against his belly, whimpering as silently as he could, trying to fight the fire, the pain, the need, that bloody aching need to have someone taking care of him sexually.

Never before had one of his heats hit so powerfully, with such intensity, and so quickly. He had no time preparing himself to the furnace his body was becoming. No time to adjust, to sigh and to go back to the Homestead, where he knew Minho or Alby would help him settle in one of the rooms upstairs. He hadn't had much time to adjust back in the Scorch either, but it had definitely not been that violent.

It took less than five minutes for Newt's breath to become erratic, for his body to start sweating and shaking. The wall in front of him was back to normal, as if there had never been a single scratch there while there had been a door not even ten minutes ago, but Newt had a terrifying feeling he was being observed. He rolled over, his body facing the wall where he had been held up by the scientists, resting his forehead on the cool surface, trying to hide himself, to make his body look small, his fear, shame and pain taking the best of him.

It felt good for a minute, to feel the coolness of the wall against his burning and sweaty skin. Problem was, Newt's back was turned on the whole room and the door, and he forced himself to turn around again, to at least try to face the danger.

Newt's heart was beating too fast in his chest, so painfully and so quickly that the blond thought for a moment he was going to have a panic attack. His body was shaking with the force of his heat and he held out one of his hands, looking up pitifully as his hand gripped the air desperately. He wanted to open his mouth and ask for water, scream for it but he could not breathe.

“P-p-please. I – I – I – w-water.” His eyes filled with tears and he couldn't even hate himself for how pathetic and weak he was: he needed water like he needed air and right now, it was bloody hard to get either one of these two things.

His whole body was burning, lower region aching painfully and Newt pressed a hand to his crotch, trying at least to lessen the ache, but it didn't do a thing. If anything, it made Newt's cheeks burn with shame – like he wasn't hot enough already. Unable to stop himself, Newt gripped the hem of his shirt and awkwardly tried to lift it over his head. He was still curled up so he crashed back on the ground, which made it really difficult, but he get rid of the garment eventually. He still had his brown tank top on, which was a blessing because Newt needed it to feel safe. He wished it was enough.

Newt's head was spinning, the whole world around him shifting, making him nauseous and lost. He shut his eyes closed and let out a sob. A real, loud and painful sob. He couldn't take it. He had never faced something so painful before, not even when he had hurt his leg – and he had thought it was one of the most painful things he had ever experienced, except for his first heat in the Glade maybe. He had been scared back then, unable to understand what was happening to him, but scared couldn't even cover what he was feeling right now. His heat was going to kill him. Slowly and painfully.

Newt had no idea how long it had been since his heat had hit. He couldn't talk, couldn't breathe, couldn't drink because no one had brought him water. Sobs of pain escaped him every now and then and if he hadn't rested and eaten before, he would have passed out long ago. Right now, the blond craved darkness and unconsciousness. He could've begged for it if he had been able to talk.

In his pitiful state, Newt barely noticed the wall opening again. He actually didn't notice it at all until screams came to his ears. Someone was screaming his name.

“Newt!”

That's when the scent hit the blond. The name _Thomas_ came to his mind in a nano second. And Thomas was by his side in a nano second as well. The smell of Alpha had Newt's body arching and tensing then relaxing in a second, the feeling dangerously close to an orgasm, while the smell of Thomas made Newt cry from relief. The smell of the guy he loved brought air back to his lungs and slowed the maddening pace of his heartbeats and he couldn't help the tears that ran down his face when he felt the brunet drop to his knees next to him and connect their skins.

“T-T-Tomm-y...”

It was the first words he had spoken in an indeterminable period of time. It came out broken and raspy but Newt couldn't care less: Thomas had his hands on him and, bloody Hell, nothing could make him happier right now. The brunet slowly brushed Newt's forearm with the tip of his thumb, a soothing gesture that had Newt's body shivering and arching under the touch. Newt gripped Thomas' wrist hard, like he was drowning and Thomas was the only thing that could keep him afloat.

“I got you, Newt, I'm not leaving. How bad are you?”

“I – I – Please, I need wa-water.” It was hard to talk when he was feeling like his body may combust any second.

“I need to stand up Newt, okay?”

“'kay...” He sobbed, trying his best to prevent his voice from wavering. And Thomas' physical presence was gone and with it the comfort it had brought to Newt. A new wave of fire and pain shot through him and he cried out, lowering his head and curling his whole body in an attempt to get rid of the pain.

“HE NEEDS WATER YOU SHUCKING SHANKS! NOW!”

Like they had been waiting for his command, the wall opened again and Newt raised his head as a dozen of packs of water came in, placed on a kind of cart. In the blink of an eye, Thomas was already by the water, taking a couple of bottles and going back to Newt as fast as he could. Newt saw him drop to his knees again and put the bottles carefully on the floor.

“Okay, sit up Newt, you need to drink.”

Newt lost no time and sat up painfully and slowly. Thomas went behind him and sat down, his back to the wall and he helped Newt sit up, positioning the blond so that he was now sat between his legs, resting his back against Thomas' strong chest. Thomas grabbed a bottle of water and held it in front of Newt, waiting for him to gather enough strength to hold the bottle without dropping it and drink.

Newt squirmed a little and tried to find a comfortable position in which he wouldn't have to suffer and be forced to double over. As soon as he stopped moving, he took the bottle from Thomas' hands gently and the brunet slid his hands down Newt's side, running his thumbs over the soft material of his brown tank top. Newt gave in to the soft and gentle touch, moaned a little and Thomas had to press his hand on Newt's hip to bring him back to reality.

“Drink, Newt, please.”

Newt took the bottle to his lips and sighed in contentment the moment the first mouthful of water ran down his throat. He felt the coolness spread in his body, run into his veins, cooling his burning system, evening his breathing a little bit, appeasing him. He leaned against Thomas even more; he had drunk half the bottle already.

“Slow, Newt, take it slow.” Newt felt Thomas slide one of his hot, powerful and reassuring hands on his belly as the other came to Newt's arm. The blond soon felt Thomas support his arm gently, trying to make him slow down the pace of the quick and desperate gulps he was taking.

“S-Sorry.” Newt mumbled, taking the bottle away from his lips. He regretted the gesture instantly, feeling the fire creep through his entire body again. He closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. Now that he was not about to have a heart attack, he could actually realize that Thomas was with him. His scent, his sweet perfect scent, was overwhelmingly good.

“Tommy...,” he let out in a pained breath, turning his head until he could nuzzle the inside of Thomas' upper arm. “You – you smell so g-good.”

Thomas kissed his hair fondly and his hands curled around Newt's belly, holding him against him in a strong and protective embrace. Newt whimpered at that, need coursing through his body painfully and quickly, settling again and replacing the moment of peace Newt had been able to enjoy for a minute.

He whined and instinctively curled on himself once more but Thomas didn't let go entirely. He moved with Newt and the blond felt him shift against him. Newt had to bite his lips to prevent the groans and moans and sobs that threatened to pass his lips. A second later, he breathed out in relief as Thomas' body spooned him, allowing Newt to either relax slowly or double over in pain if he had to. He felt so protected. So cared for. Thomas' hand slid under his tank top, warm and comforting, as the brunet brushed Newt's hair with his fingers, rubbing his scalp softly with the tip of his fingers.

“Try to sleep Newt, okay? We'll find a way to cool your body heat down when you wake up, alright?”

Newt nodded against Thomas' chest and Thomas kissed his nape.

 

 

When he woke up, Newt had the chance and pleasure to enjoy a few minutes of clarity and sanity. Thomas hadn't let go of him: they were still spooning on the floor, Thomas' warm and comforting body pressed against Newt's.

“Tommy...,” Newt mumbled, feeling the heat come back and cloud his mind again. His body was burning again – not like it had cooled down at all, but he had been asleep and hadn't really felt it – and God, he had never felt such a need to be touched right now. Sexually speaking. He bit on his lips and had to stop the urge to shove Thomas away and touch himself. Thomas probably felt him tense against him because he asked:

“You okay, Newt?”

“Yeah, just – hurts. Could be worse. It'll peak soon, then calm down again until it eventually breaks. I'm good for now - it just hurts.” He mumbled. _I wanna touch myself_ , he wanted to say, but he didn't. Now that Thomas was here... He felt - better. That was odd, _abnormal_ , but that really was true: it was like Thomas' scent and presence could calm him down, ground him, shut the pain a little bit. The brunet started rubbing slow circles on his hipbone, and Newt found it surprisingly helpful: the touch was grounding. “That feels so good...,” he let out, reaching for Thomas and resting one of his hands on his own hipbone, where Thomas was now drawing slow and uneven patterns with his thumb.

“Feel like washing yourself?” Newt's eyes watered at the promise of cold water. “They gave us tons of bottles and I think we can use five of them to cool your body down. What d'you think?”

“Bloody Hell, yes. Please.”

In a daze, Newt watched Thomas grab the blond's abandoned shirt and a bottle of water. He poured the water on the garment, soaking it wet, and came back to Newt. He sat down in front of him and asked cautiously:

“D'you wanna –”

Newt didn't need more and moved slowly till he was sitting on Thomas' lap, facing the brunet. He had to look down at him because he was a little higher than Thomas in this position, and he thought for a moment that the brunet had done it on purpose to make him feel better and stronger. Make him feel like he was worth so much. That's what Newt could read in the brunet's eyes as he met his gaze. And that's when he burst into tears.

His hands circled Thomas' shoulders and back in a second and he buried his face in the brunet's neck, feeling his tears drop softly on the bare skin there.

“Newt... It's okay, I'm here, you're gonna be okay...” Thomas' arms engulfed Newt in a strong and loving embrace. “It's not your fault, Newt, you're beautiful. I'm sorry it hurts...”

“I – I love you so much...,” Newt sobbed, his hands fisting Thomas' shirt, pressing the brunet closer to him desperately. Suddenly, Newt felt Thomas' lips on his neck, just under his earlobe and he shivered, body tensing and pressing against Thomas, seeking more contact. Thomas' lips made their way up Newt's neck until he stopped just behind his ear and pecked the skin there. Then he nuzzled Newt's neck and said, directly in his ear:

“I love you too.” Newt gripped Thomas even more and the brunet started running his thumb up and down the blond's spine. “D'you want me to help you wash yourself?”

“Please...” Thomas grabbed the hem of Newt's tank top and ran his hands under it slowly, mapping Newt's skin, sending shivers all over his body. Thomas' hands were hot but not as much as Newt's skin, and the touch felt absolutely perfect.

“Can I get rid of this?” Thomas asked, tugging at the shirt.

Newt raised his arms and the brunet took the garment off him in a second. Newt was left half-naked, his exposed bare chest moving up and down quickly, following the fast pace of his breathing. Thomas' hand soon connected with the smooth and pale skin again, his whole palm moving up and down Newt's stomach. Newt whimpered as Thomas' hand withdrew ever so slightly and only brushed his skin. He pressed his hips closer to Thomas' unconsciously.

“Sorry, you're just – beautiful.” Newt closed his eyes and blushed. Thomas was making him so peaceful and calm right now. He just felt like a teenager who'd have a crush, but it was okay compared to the horny and suffering guy he usually became when he went into heat.

Next thing he knew, there was a cold, wet and yet soft garment brushing his skin and then sliding on his back. He couldn't find it in him to try to stop the moan that escaped his throat at the feeling. Thomas moved the garment slowly against his hot skin, tracing gentle patterns that had Newt melting in his arms in a matter of seconds, sighing in pleasure. Thomas made him forget about WICKED. He forgot that they had forced his heat on him, that they were probably watching, that they could see them being so intimate. Thomas was shielding Newt's body with his own since Newt's back was on the wall and he felt protected and safe. He didn't care about anything else than the brunet's hands on him.

His body was still burning, his stomach was still aching, he still desperately wanted to take care of himself, but these needs were blurred by something else, something he couldn't quite place that made him a little dizzy.

Thomas probably felt Newt relax in his arms because he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper: “You can sleep if you want to.” Newt only hummed in agreement. “I'm here to protect you. I won't let them hurt you. Never again.”

“I should've fought better than that, 't's half my fault.”

“Newt –” Thomas stopped, like he was struggling to decide whether or not he should speak. “I – I was on the other side of the wall. I couldn't do a thing but – I saw you. What happened – I thought I was going to kill them. You were screaming and you were so terrified – I could almost feel it... Trust me, you're the bravest person I know. I'm so proud of you.”

Newt smiled at the words even if a second ago his heart had stopped at the realization that WICKED had made Thomas watch Newt be forced into heat.

“I'm sorry you couldn't kill them. I'd have gladly helped.” Newt laughed and he heard and felt Thomas' laugh against his own chest. He was glad he could lighten the mood a little – he knew the worst part of his heat was yet to come.

Eventually Thomas' hands came to a stop and he took the bottle of water next to him, handing it to Newt so that he could drink. Last week Newt had suffered from the lack of water, so it was a blessing to be able to enjoy some. He took the bottle and gulped down half of it in a blink of an eye. Still on Thomas' lap, he slowly shifted. The brunet took the hint quickly and, instead of letting Newt turn around and position himself with much effort, he held Newt in his arms, against him and turned around, resting his back on the wall. He loosened his grip on Newt a second later and the blond sat between his thighs, curling on himself until his head rested on Thomas' hipbone, facing Thomas' body. He blessed his ability to sleep everywhere and relax by breathing in the perfect scent of Thomas' body and closed his eyes.

 

 

Newt woke up to the terrifying need of sex.

“Oh my God, Tommy, please...,” he whispered brokenly before he could stop himself. “Please, please, please...”

Thomas' hands were properly back on him in a second as the brunet woke up quickly, managing to make Newt move back to his lap. Newt's hips were grinding down on Thomas', the blond unable to hold back.

“Hey, Newt, it's okay, it's okay, shhhh...” The soothing whispers grounded Newt and Thomas' hands were soon on his lower back, helping him control the movements of his hips, slowing him down until he was slowly undulating his hips against Thomas'. “Slow, okay? Tell me what you need.”

“I – I – I don't k-know, I've – it's – never felt like that before.” He was hot, abnormally hot and he couldn't feel his arms. His grip on Thomas' shoulder tightened.

“Shhh, don't panic, it's not a normal heat, remember? It's a little more violent but you're gonna be okay. You've never felt like that before?”

“N-no,” he let out in a breath, almost moaning.

“It's okay, just do what you feel comfortable with okay?”

“No sex. I can't – I don't -”

“Newt, I didn't ask what felt comfortable for me but for you,” Thomas let out quickly, trying to calm Newt down: he realized he probably looked like he was about to have a panic attack. “You have nothing to prove. You don't want sex, we don't have sex.” Newt nodded quickly, his hips pressing harder against Thomas'.

“Can I – Do you wann' kiss me? Hold me? Anything... Just... You. Please.”

“C'me here,” Thomas whispered and Newt felt one his hands slide up his spine and rest on his nape. Newt curled his arms around Thomas' shoulders and Thomas let him connect their lips. Newt leaned in shyly until he could feel his and Thomas' breath mix. He moved forward and crashed his lips in the softest way possible against Thomas'. He lost control of his hips again and Thomas' hands were immediately back on his waist, keeping him grounded and helping him slow down his desperate movements.

“Hips -” He started but Newt kissed him. He stopped as soon as he realised Thomas was talking and bit on his lower lip. “Hips slow, okay? Take it slow. Slow and deep alright?” Newt nodded and let Thomas' hands guide him, starting a new rhythm that had both of them moaning. Newt hid his face in the crook of Thomas' neck to whisper:

“That feels so good Tommy...”

“I know – Oh shuck, Newt...”

Thomas didn't have more time to moan because Newt pressed his lips to his, matching the gentle rhythm of their hips grinding against each other's, and they were kissing, deeply yet lovingly. When Newt started to pant and groan into the kiss, Thomas broke it slowly.

“I love you, Newt,” Thomas whispered, bringing his hands to Newt's butt and following the movements of his hips.

That did it for Newt. Thomas' hands _there_ had him shutting his eyes close as he felt his stomach tighten and his whole body tense.

“T-Tommy...,” he let out, grabbing the brunet's shirt in his hands and holding on to it as the intensity of his orgasm threatened to overwhelm him.

“I'm here, I'm not leaving you,” Thomas replied, caressing Newt's back. “You better?” He asked when Newt's body relaxed for real in his arms.

“Feel so good... Next time... Next time we're totally having sex...” Thomas laughed at that and Newt couldn't help but join him.

“There, Newt, you need to drink.”

Newt reluctantly took the bottle of water and gulped down half of it in the blink of an eye. “Thanks. You okay?”

“As long as you are, I am. What matters is, how are you?”

“It's weird," Newt breathed out, feeling blissful and dizzy at the same time. "I feel a lot better. It hurts - hurts like a shank - but it's like... It's like my body knows you're here... It's almost - easier, now that you're here. I can sleep, I can breathe, I can - can focus on you. It's good. It's really g-good. How d'you even do that? Keep calm when -” Newt asked sleepily again, feeling his body relax. He had grown so used to getting himself off while he was in heat that his body still felt quite painful now, wanting more, but his mind was about to shut down, and he felt grateful for that weird ability he had mastered over the years.

“Because I love you,” Thomas said without the shadow of a doubt. He helped Newt out of his lap and positioned the blond in his arms bridal style, letting Newt curl on himself and turn towards Thomas' strong chest. “I can't act any different when you need me. I've got – something, in me, yelling at me to protect you. To be here for you.” Newt nuzzled Thomas' chest at the words.

“When we're out – when we're safe. I want – I want to date you. To kiss you until I can't breathe, to hold you against me. Forever. I want to be with you. I want – I want us to mate.” Newt felt Thomas lift him a little and then the brunet was laying down next to him on the ground, and pulled him close, hiding his face in Newt's neck, making Newt moan.

“It'd be an honor.” Thomas replied, removing his head from Newt's neck. Their eyes locked. There was a spark in his eyes and his whiskey pupils had never seemed so sincere. The soft kiss they shared after that was just as sincere.

 

 

Newt had no idea how long his heat lasted. He was glad he had been able to sleep properly because the pain and need increased slowly, till he reached a point where he couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't even drink by himself because of how bad the shaking and the pain were. He had never thought someone could be in so much pain, but what he and Thomas went through during his heat proved him wrong.

And if Thomas had to handle a crying and whimpering Newt each time the blond's heat took over his body, if he had to help Newt to take what his body needed to calm down, if he felt his heart break at how much pain Newt was in when his heat was about to break, if he had to hold back his own tears as Newt's breathing became erratic, as sweat covered his forehead, as the blond shut his eyes closed as hard as he could like it would take the pain away, he never stopped whispering sweet things to Newt. He never stopped taking care of him.

They never stopped holding hands. Not even when Newt's heat eventually broke, not when the door opened again and when they walked out of the room, Thomas holding Newt and helping him walk as the blond recovered from the most powerful heat he had ever experienced. And if Minho cooed when he saw them holding hands, well, it was only because he liked being a shank. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry, I actually am a sucker for bittersweet and complicated yet cute Alpha/Omega relationships and well... That's how this happened.  
> Rated M again since Alpha/Omega features aren't really common features, ya know!  
> I hope you enjoyed this, please don't hesitate to leave a comment to tell me what you thought about this and well... Thank you for reading!! <3


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